


Racetrack Higgins Makes Impulsive Decisions

by Waddles889



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, he steals an office chair, i dont know how to tag this, it could be a modern au but it doesnt have to be nobody uses technology, it was 1 am im sorry, race makes impulsive decisions, they're also at a carnival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 20:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10998300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waddles889/pseuds/Waddles889
Summary: Spot Conlon was used to Racetrack Higgins and his impulsive actions. Most people were. Race was known to take not only bets, but also random dares from just about anyone. One time, Spot nearly had to give him the heimlich maneuver after Race had been dared to eat an entire pizza by himself in under three minutes. He had also jumped out of his third floor apartment window into a small tree because he didn’t want to study for exams despite Davey’s desperate pleading, and decided that it was the quickest(and coolest) escape route.This was why it was not surprising that Race was swinging a prop sword that he’d just stolen from a carnival booth.It was definitely not the craziest thing he had ever done. Very far from it. Spot was just surprised that nobody had noticed yet.





	Racetrack Higgins Makes Impulsive Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> my friend gave me a picture to write a oneshot based off of at 1 am and this is what was born

Spot Conlon was used to Racetrack Higgins and his impulsive actions. Most people were. Race was known to take not only bets, but also random dares from just about anyone. One time, Spot nearly had to give him the heimlich maneuver after Race had been dared to eat an entire pizza by himself in under three minutes. He had also jumped out of his third floor apartment window into a small tree because he didn’t want to study for exams despite Davey’s desperate pleading, and decided that it was the quickest(and coolest) escape route.

This was why it was not surprising that Race was swinging a prop sword that he’d just stolen from a carnival booth. 

It was definitely not the craziest thing he had ever done. Very far from it. Spot was just surprised that nobody had noticed yet.

Race poked Spot in the side, grinning at him as the short boy shot him a glare. “What’s a matter, Spot? Worried I’ll bust your ass?”

Spot rolled his eyes and cracked his knuckles. “Sure, Race. I’m shaking in my boots.”

Race was about to say something witty in response when he spotted something over Spot’s head and rushed off to check it out. Davey, bless the kid’s soul, called after him, but it was no use. Once Race had seen something that caught his eye, he wasn’t leaving until he checked it out. There was no telling how long he would stay distracted, though, so the Brooklyn boy gave a quick nod to Jack before going off to track Race down.

Carnivals were not Spot’s favorite place. They were big, loud, and useless. Sure, they were good for advertisements and such, but the rides were sketchy and the food was overpriced and tasted like cardboard. Noisy, obnoxious, pretentious people filled the area with sweaty bodies and worthless chatter. He didn’t want to come, but Race had found out about it and begged him to join the group.

There was no way he could say no to that. Besides, someone had to keep Race out of trouble.

It was at the cotton candy stand where Spot finally tracked Race down. The boy was holding two cones of the spun sugar, tapping his foot as he licked one of them. He glanced up and his face broke into a grin at the sight of Spot’s scowl. “I got you one too, Spot!”

Spot looked at the fluffy blue cloud that was all but shoved in his face. Damn it, Race. The expression on his face was so hopeful and he couldn’t turn it down. No way his friend was wasting any money on his watch.

With an exasperated sigh, Spot took the cone. “Thanks, Race.”

They caught up with the others soon after, who were watching something apparently very interesting. Spot stood on his toes, trying to see over everyone’s heads. Some sort of performance was going on, but he couldn’t quite tell what was happening. All he could see was an office chair, the kind that swivels and has wheels.

“I wanna steal that chair,” Race whispered.

Spot blinked. “What?”

Race was beaming. “Y’know? I just wanna run through and ride off in that office chair. It has wheels and everything.”

The other boy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Race, if you do that, you’ll get in trouble with security and all that. You can’t afford to get caught and arrested.”

Race pouted. “You’re no fun, Spot. I bought you cotton candy.”

“I never told you to,” Spot said, shrugging. Race muttered something under his breath before returning to watching the performance.

It was over in a few minutes and everyone clapped politely, even Spot, who couldn’t see a damn thing that happened. Davey was nudging Jack and pointing in another direction, so they would be walking off soon. “Alright Race, let’s-” Spot didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence.

Race bolted down the slight incline, dropping his pink cotton candy on the dusty ground. He shoved people out of the way and jumped into the office chair.

“Racetrack Higgins, you absolute moron!” Spot yelled, taking off after him. The force of Race’s leap had sent the chair rolling across the dirt, bumping on the occasional pebble. He let out a whoop, laughing loudly as people shouted in confusion. Swinging the plastic sword like he was a knight, he kicked off a stall and the chair changed direction, skidding towards the edge of the grounds and top of a hill.

This was going to end in a trip to the hospital.

Spot reached out to grab the armrest of the chair, but Race seized his wrist instead, yanking him along. The chair pitched, and a wheel slammed into an unfortunately placed stone, sending Race’s fake sword flying. It spun, tipping off the slightly raised edge of the ground. For a brief moment, the chair was off the ground. The next, it had hit the grassy hill and Race spilled onto the ground with a thud. He kept his grip on Spot’s wrist and the Brooklyn kid tumbled after him, tripping over Race and sprawling on the hill. 

The momentum sent both boys rolling down a stretch of the hill, but that didn’t last very long. 

Race had ended up on top of Spot, who shoved him off immediately. “Race, what the hell?!”

The shorter boy shrugged, glancing down at where the chair had stopped, looking pretty worse for the wear. He avoided Spot’s eyes.

Spot stood up, grabbing Race’s wrist and pulling him towards the entrance(and now, exit) of the carnival. Davey and Jack quickly followed, the former muttering quick apologies to the employees.

It wasn’t the craziest thing Race had done, sure, but it was sure as hell the thing that pissed off Spot Conlon the most.

 

Race didn’t do much the rest of that week. He avoided Spot as much as possible and didn’t take any stupid dares. The most impulsive thing he did was chuck a bottle-cap at the window. It was… pretty concerning.

Finally, Spot caught him on his way to his apartment and pulled him aside into an alleyway.

“Okay, Race, what’s up with you?”

Race raised an eyebrow, looking up at Spot. “Whaddya mean?”

Spot sighed and bit his lip before continuing. “I mean you’s been ditching me and acting like a sensible person. Usually after an event like that you’d be talking it up and chugging three cans of Mountain Dew because you can.”

The shorter boy didn’t say anything, looking down at his scuffed up shoes. It’s a moment before he responds. “I thought you hated me after what happened. It was a dick move and I shouldn't've jumped on that chair in the first place.”

Silence. And then..

Spot laughed. Laughed at Race. “Well, now I’ve seen everything! Racetrack Higgins, remorseful of his own impulsive actions!”

Race cracked a small smile, looking back up at the other boy. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment and then spoke up again. “Does that mean you’re still mad at me, or do you love me again?”

Spot raised an eyebrow. “I ain’t mad about the chair thing anymore. That didn’t really matter that much anyway. I’m a little mad at you for not talking to me for a week, though.” Race smiled sheepishly. “Come on, Race, I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

Race started to follow Spot out of the alleyway when he suddenly got a very strong urge to do what was most likely one of the stupidest things he could possibly ever do.

“Hey Spot,” he said. The other boy turned to look back at him. “What wouldya say if I did somethin’ really stupid right now.”

“Depends on how stupid it is.”

“Okay, because I’m going to do somethin’ incredibly impulsive.”

Before Spot could say another word, Race took a step forward, grabbed a fistful of Spot’s shirt, and pressed their lips together. He pulled back almost immediately, ears burning. The taller boy blinked, staring at Race with shock plastered on his face. When no sign of absolute disgust or hatred crossed Spot’s features, Race felt a little relieved, but was still terrified.

Then Spot cupped Race’s cheek and pulled him back into another kiss. This one lasted longer, and Race never wanted it to end.

Spot Conlon was used to Racetrack Higgins and his impulsive actions. This was not the craziest thing Race had done, by far, but it sure was Spot’s favorite.


End file.
